Days passed, but the ache didn't. I was still scattered, still reeling from his words. Antonio had a girlfriend. So then, what was all that? The way he looked at me, like I was the only one in the room. The way his eyes met mine just as I turned, already watching me. The way he flirted, soft and playful, as if he knew what he was doing to my heart. Was it all just a game to him? Just… fun?
My mind kept looping through the moments, tearing them apart like they were lies dressed as memories. The excitement I once had for school slowly dissolved into dread. I couldn't face him—not when every glance reminded me of how easily he'd let me fall. He had become my comfort zone, the reason I smiled, the warmth in my daily routine. But after giving him my heart, he became the very thing I couldn't bear to be near. The one person I loved with everything I had… was the one who made me feel the most alone.
I held it together at school, masking my heartbreak behind smiles and silence. But at night, when everything went quiet and the world stopped demanding my strength, I crumbled. The tears came freely then, soaking into pillows as I muffled the sobs I couldn't let my parents hear. I didn't want them to know their daughter—the one they believed was strong—was breaking under the weight of teenage love. So I swallowed it all. Let my feelings sink deeper and deeper until my chest felt heavy every waking moment. His words haunted me. And I wondered, did he even know what he did to me?
One afternoon, as I walked through the school gates with heavy steps and an even heavier heart, I saw him by the old tree near the entrance. He looked up, as if sensing me, but I quickly turned my gaze elsewhere. I didn't want him to see the storm behind my eyes. Not anymore. Not when he was the reason for it. I walked past him, pretending he was just another face in the crowd, even though his presence still made my heart ache.
Throughout the day, I felt his eyes on me. In class. In the hallway. In the cafeteria. But I never looked back. I couldn't. I was scared that if I did, I'd break all over again. He had taken something from me—something I gave willingly, too easily—and now I didn't know how to get it back. My peace. My spark. Myself.
During the last period, he finally cornered me after class, his voice soft but desperate. "Selene… can we talk?" My hands trembled slightly around my books, but I kept walking. "Please," he said again. But I didn't stop. Not because I didn't want to hear him—but because I did. And I knew that if I turned around, I might forgive him too quickly, too easily. And right now, I needed to protect what was left of me.
That night, his voice echoed in my mind—"Selene… can we talk?"—over and over, like a song stuck on repeat. I hugged my pillow tightly, blinking up at the ceiling as tears quietly slipped down my cheeks. I hated that even after everything, part of me still wanted to hear what he had to say. But the other part, the part that was learning to guard my heart, knew silence was the only shield I had left.